Great Scotland Yard!
by Devryn
Summary: An early call to Scotland Yard brings DI Lestrade face-to-face with the most eccentric suspect he's ever met...(One-shot)


**Author's Note: **This is the result of a challenge from the awesome Jeemers and rockstop57. The prompt? "BBC Gregory Lestrade and Doc Brown." And this is how I got those two characters in the same story.

Expect some humor (hopefully!), and enjoy!

* * *

It was another weird case - the kind that had Gregory Lestrade groping blindly for his ringing mobile at three in the morning, the kind that drove off his wife, the kind that drove _him _to almost reach for another cigarette. He ran his hand over his weary face, shuffling into Scotland Yard with the sleepy gait of a man not yet fully awake.

Donovan was already there, with a bemused look on her face, which - really, let's be honest, here - was never a good sign. There was no sign of her usual rival, Sherlock Holmes - or, the "Freak," as she childishly called him (couldn't come up with a better name, Sally?). At least, not yet. They'd probably end up ringing the consulting detective - or, rather, his flatmate Dr. Watson - at some point. Seemed like all the tough cases needed Sherlock's attention these days.

(Lestrade didn't stop to let himself consider what that might imply about his effectiveness as DI. It was too early in the morning for introspection.)

"He's in there," Sally wiggled her eyebrows in the direction of the interrogation room. A one-sided mirror allowed the investigators to observe without being seen themselves. Inside, at the utilitarian table, sat a man with an alarming head of white hair and a dirty lab coat.

Lestrade raised his own skeptical brow. "Got a suspect already?"

"He was wanderin' around the scene, so..." Donovan shrugged.

"Well, where's the victim?"

"Wasn't one. 'cept a few million pounds worth of property damage." Sally snorted dismissively. "Wanker crashed a car into Nelson. At least there wasn't any tourists at Trafalgar when it happened. Also claims he don't know what year it is or how he got there."

"What." Lestrade deadpanned, then his confused expression broke into one of frustration, his voice growing louder with emphasis. "Are you bloody serious? This is -" He drew in a breath. "I don't care if the drunk bastard drove the car through Buckingham and woke up the Queen in her nightie. _It isn't our division._"

"Don't think he _is_ drunk, sir - just barmy." Sally shrugged, looking far too amused with the situation than anyone had any right to be at this blooming hour. "'sides, they called _us_ in. Probably figured you'd answer."

The DI glared at Donovan with the exasperation of a man too tired to find any humor in anything.

"Just - just go talk to him," Sally suggested, and when Lestrade threw up a hand in defeat and made his way into the interrogation room, she broke into giggles.

* * *

"Great Scotland Yard!" the man exclaimed as Lestrade entered. The latter wasn't sure whether to laugh or just turn around and walk off, but he summoned every ounce of discipline he had and took the seat opposite the suspect, placing the thin case file on the table.

"I'm Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade; you are -" he began his usual speech but was interrupted by the eccentric fellow across from him.

"Doc Brown - well, Dr. Emmett Lathrop Brown, actually. Good morning! Or is it evening?"

"I -"

"Or, even, what _year _is it?" Doc continued, wide-eyed and hurried in his speech. "There's been some terrible mistake, you see, or, maybe it's all just a happy coincidence. Science owes a very great deal to happy accidents. Like the slinky! _Marvelous _invention, slinkies. Many more practical uses than you might expect! Did you know you can make a fantastic espresso with one?"

Lestrade sighed. "I'm sorry, what - what are you on about?"

"Oh, yes!" Doc nodded and continued with the same enthusiastic pace. "The DeLorean," he said, as though that ought to explain everything.

"Is that the vehicle you crashed into the statue of -?"

"Oh yes," the wild-haired scientist agreed again. "But it's not just any vehicle! It's my greatest invention you see, normally capable of traversing through time, but in _this_ instance, it appears I've also somehow made a spatial jump!" Doc paused, glancing down at his hands. He did a quick count on his fingers and mumbled, as if speaking to himself. "Maybe that's due to the increased power output...if I increase the volume from 1.21 gigawatts, then the temporal displacement might be rapid enough to effect a-"

"Wait, are you saying you've traveled through _time_?" Lestrade was more than a little skeptical.

"Unless it's 1985," came the doctor's swift reply.

"Right, ok." Lestrade stood, taking the case file in hand. "We're done here." This really, _really _wasn't his division.

The door to the interrogation room squeaked shut, and Lestrade placed the folder in Donovan's hands. "We've got a real Doctor Who in there," he shook his head in disbelief. How did they keep finding these people, honestly?

"And since you seem to really enjoy getting on with 'freaks," Lestrade didn't even bother to hide the sarcasm in his voice, "this one's all yours. You deal with it."

"But -" Sally started to protest.

"No," Lestrade called over his shoulder as he walked off. "I'm going back to bed."

Donovan huffed and studied the case file in her hand.

Gregory offered one last piece of parting advice on his way out: "Maybe you should talk to Sherlock."


End file.
